


Hit Me With Your Best Shot

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy Parkinson always gets what she wants - except when she goes up against Harry Potter (PWP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit Me With Your Best Shot

A hush fell over the sixth floor of the Ministry when Pansy stepped out of the Floo. Hardly fazed or surprised by the reaction, she held her head held high, exuding her usual air of superiority and a steel quiet warning to anyone who dared to get in her way. Her four-inch stiletto heels clicked rhythmically on the marble as she walked through the front entrance of the Auror Department, alerting anyone who hadn’t looked up yet of her approach. They all parted before her, clearing a pathway to her destination—the Head Auror’s office. 

But Pansy Parkinson was no Auror; she was an accomplished and cunning witch with a shrewd acumen for business and a razor-edged tongue to match.

And right now, she was madder than the Goddess of Erinyes. 

“Excuse me! Ma’am! You can’t just walk in there!” the front desk receptionist protested, standing up to reach out and grabbing Pansy’s shoulder. 

Before her hand made contact, Pansy whipped her head around to level a menacing glare, effectively stunning the woman into fearful silence. Pansy brushed away an imaginary spot of dirt from the sleeve of her black designer robes and then continued toward the Head of Aurors’s office. 

When she finally reached his door, she didn’t hesitate to open it. Knocking was for people she respected, not for wankers like Harry Potter. 

The room was filled with uniformed Aurors, and they all turned with surprised and suspicious eyes as she entered. Her eyes quickly found Harry, who was standing front and centre, pointing to a large chart spelled in suspension on the wall. 

“How dare you!” she snarled, ignoring the bristling sound of a dozen wands being drawn and aimed directly at her. She didn’t even blink. Pansy Parkinson feared no one, least of all a bunch of underpaid yes-men and women.

Harry slowly turned around, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh… Parkinson? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? You have some nerve! Why don’t you tell me what the hell this is?” She held out the notice she’d found charmed to her door only an hour ago. 

Harry sighed. “Ah, that.”

“Yes, that! I want an explanation!” she demanded, stepping further in the room despite the increasingly darkening shadow of Aurors closing in on her. 

Harry gave her a onceover and then glanced around the room. Everyone was waiting in tense silence, their eyes dancing between the two of them. She wasn’t about to back down. If Harry’s Aurors wanted to stay and watch their Head’s humiliation, she was more than happy to oblige them.

“All right, everyone, put down your wands,” Harry said wearily. “That’ll be all for today. Back to work.”

The circle of Aurors glanced at Harry sceptically before cautiously lowering their wands.

Harry turned to the one closest to him. “Karen, I want you to lead the Area Seven raids.”

“Yes, sir,” the young brunette answered. “Does that include the Malfoy estate?”

“Especially the Malfoy estate,” Harry said pointedly. 

Pansy gasped in indignation. 

“That’ll be all, people, let’s move!” 

With that, the Aurors all began to exit. 

“Chris, close the door behind you, will you?” Harry said to the last Auror out. The man nodded, giving Pansy one last mistrustful glance.

When the door shut, Pansy walked up right up to Harry, stopping only a few feet in front of him. She stood in a challenging stance, hands on her hips, displaying her most threatening scowl. “So it is true! The Auror department has a grudge!”

Harry sighed, looking weary and slightly annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Parkinson, but I don’t appreciate you barging into my office unannounced. I was in the middle of an important meeting, and—”

“I don’t give a pygmy's arse about your meeting, Potter! Your Aurors have no right on my property!”

“We gave you notice,” Harry replied.

Pansy had to restrain herself from yelling. “Right, notice! Two bloody hours! What kind of notice is that?”

“It’s enough notice. We can’t give too much warning or it would completely compromise the purpose of the search. You’re lucky you got that.”

Pansy balled her fists, baring her teeth. “Lucky? You’re lucky I didn’t wait for them to arrive so I could hex their bollocks off! Notice or no notice, no Auror is going to set foot on my property, and certainly not in my home! I won’t allow it. I don’t trust the lot of them. They’re sure to give my house-elves a fright!”

Harry chuckled. “Your house-elves? Is that why you’re here? That’s awfully nice of you, Parkinson. I never took you for a softy.” 

Was he mocking her? Cheeky bastard. 

She narrowed her eyes, stepping toward him slowly. “That’s because I’m not a softy, Potter. You have no idea just how difficult I can be. But you’re about to find out.”

“Is that a threat?” Harry asked, quirking one eyebrow. 

Pansy frowned. He didn’t look the least bit concerned. Somehow, that was more infuriating than the pending raid on her estate.

“Answer my question! What exactly are your cronies looking for?” she demanded.

“You know what they’re searching for, Parkinson, or haven’t you been keeping up with current events? ‘Operation Obliterate’—”

Pansy huffed. “Oh, that! You mean ‘Operation Discriminate’!”

“We don’t discriminate,” Harry replied calmly. “We’re checking every home occupied by wizards and witches with known affiliations to Dark wizards. The latest terrorist acts—”

“Could be the work of anyone! Your department doesn’t have a clue who’s responsible! You just need a scapegoat, and it’s easy to blame old ghosts!” 

Harry shook his head. “You know as well as I do that there’s evidence that the last terrorist attack was the work of former Death Eaters or their sympathisers.” 

“Ha!” Pans scoffed. “And I suppose only a Slytherin can be a Dark wizard or Death Eater, is that it?” 

“Parkinson, get off your soapbox. We’re not just checking Slytherin homes.”

“You could have fooled me, Potter! I bet if I checked that little investigation list of yours, most of the homes on there are owned by Slytherins!”

“That doesn’t mean we’re targeting them. It only means that they’re more likely to be affiliated with Dark wizards,” Harry explained.

To keep from hurling a curse word at him, Pansy took a deep breath and drew back, appraising her opponent with calculating eyes. Harry looked… different. His dark hair was longer, falling a little below his shoulders and near his eyes, and pieces of it still stuck up wildly about the middle. On someone else, the length would have appeared unkempt, but on Harry, it seemed purposefully rugged. He had the look of an experienced explorer or hunter with a wise and restless spirit. Her eyes quickly took in his form. He was still slender, but his chest had filled out noticeably, giving his robes definition. Even beneath them, she could see the outline of his toned arms. She felt the flush creeping up her neck and into her face as soon as she realised she had been staring too long. 

It didn’t matter that Harry Potter had grown into a handsome, manly specimen. He really wasn’t special. In fact, he had never really been special, she told herself. 

“You haven’t changed a bit have you?” she bit out. “You’re still the same self-righteous little shite. But we’re out of school now, Potter, so I don’t have to tolerate your save-the-world bullshit anymore, especially at my expense. If your Aurors dare come near my estate—”

“You’ll what?” Harry asked, stepping forward to close the gap between them. 

He was close, now. Much too close. She could smell him. His scent was earthy, almost like fresh cut wood with a hint of patchouli, and something distinctly male, a clean musky scent that made her think of sex after a fresh shower… or in one. 

Her scowl increased as she mentally slapped herself for thinking of such despicable things. She had to focus. Quickly. He was obviously trying to wield some sort of power here, and it was annoying and very distracting. She drew upon all of the hate and resentment she had ever held toward him to make her next point. 

“You have no idea how far my reach is, Potter. You’re the one that should be careful here.” 

Harry smirked, but his green eyes held no mirth. They were dark and heavy, piercing her own. She forced herself to hold his gaze. This was a battle of wills. A thin bead of sweat began to trickle down her back, and she silently thanked Merlin she was wearing black. Why was Harry bloody Potter making her sweat? 

“You really should watch what you say,” he warned.

Pansy put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin high as she pushed out her chest with a show of self-assurance she no longer quite felt.

Harry’s stare slowly moved from her face down to the rise of her bosom, which was prominently displayed by the low cut of the white silk shirt worn under her V-cut robe. She followed his gaze as it moved from her cleavage to her hips and then her legs before finally returning back to her face. 

She gasped in disbelief, bewildered by the audacity of his inspection. “How dare you!”

Harry moved in closer still. “Oh, come off it! No one told you to come in here, throwing your knockers in my face, Parkinson. That is what you were just doing, wasn’t it? Trying out a different tactic since it’s obvious your threats won’t work on me.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Listen, you…” 

“No, Parkinson, you listen,” Harry said in a low, dangerous tone. “You don’t get to come in here telling me what I will and will not do. This isn’t your estate, and I’m not a house-elf.”

There was a sharp snapping sound behind Pansy that made her to jump and quickly turn around. She tried not to flinch as each of the six window shades in Harry’s office unfurled completely with a pop, one by one. 

She didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she heard nothing but Harry’s breathing behind her. She stood frozen, with the sudden realisation that she was in the presence of someone who probably didn’t like her very much, and who had a lot of power, and now, a lot more privacy to exercise it. 

The shades had darkened the room considerably, and the sounds of the busy Auror station just beyond Harry’s door were all muted now. For the first time since entering Harry’s office, Pansy considered backing down. At least, for the moment. 

When she turned around, Harry was much closer. Practically in her face, in fact. She hadn’t heard him move, but in the short minute that had passed, he had closed the gap between them considerably. He was in her personal space now, and this was beginning to feel… weird. 

Just what the hell was he trying to pull here?

Something wicked sparkled in his eyes as he stood towering over her. He was at least over six feet and she had grown only an inch since leaving Hogwarts, barely surpassing five and a half feet. And here they were, impossibly close, and he was peering down at her with that intense green stare. He had always been so intense. 

She pushed down her anxiety and tried to ignore the tingling in her belly. She had never cowered before anyone, and she didn’t want to start now. “You don’t scare me, Potter. I don’t care who you think you are, but you should be mindful of who I am.” 

Harry smiled genuinely, and Pansy’s stomach did another flip. 

“I know exactly who you are, Parkinson, perhaps more than you know yourself.” He said it so softly it almost sounded like a whisper. His breath was cool against her face, and she could practically taste it. Mint chocolate chip ice cream. That was what he had last eaten. Had to be. The taste of it, or the taste of it on Harry’s lips, made her own mouth water. She licked her lips. And then he leaned in just a hair to peer down at her, his nose almost touching hers. The effect was immediate. She felt swept up in his stare, dangling somewhere between reckless lust and curious temptation. 

Damn, he’s sexy, a mischievous voice whispered in her head. She couldn’t even try to deny it. Wanker or not, Potter was attractive.

“You know what I think?” he said in the same soft, firm voice. “I think you’re still the same snide, arrogant little girl you were at Hogwarts. Only now, you’re wearing a two thousand Galleon robe and high heels. I’m sorry, Parkinson, but those won’t get you far in here.” 

She was vaguely aware that his tone was seductive and manipulative. It dripped with the promise of something more. What, she wasn’t sure. But she was creative enough to imagine a few inappropriate scenarios. How would dirty words sound coming out of that sexy mouth? Did Saint Potter even use dirty words, or was he one of those quiet ones? Perhaps he would just tease and lick. 

Unable to find her voice at the moment, she continued to contemplate these things as she stared up at him. 

“Now, I have a question for you,” Harry continued. “Do you know who you’re talking to?” 

Pansy swallowed as discreetly as possible. “What?”

“I said: Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m not the awkward boy who you remembered or a want-to-be saviour. I am a decorated war hero and Head of Aurors. This is my department, my office, and I’m in charge here. You have a wand on you, but it was disarmed the moment you stepped through that doorway uninvited.”

There was a spark of invisible electricity as Harry’s magic brushed against her. It was as quick and forceful as an unexpected tidal wave, but there was no mistake about it, his magic was flowing from him like a waterfall that had been unleashed. Intoxicated, Pansy’s head began to buzz. 

She shook it off and stepped back, determined to hold some semblance of control even as it unravelled before her. “Potter, if you’re trying to affect me… or make a pass,” she said breathlessly. 

Oh, damn it all. She felt weak and could still feel his energy. It was magnetic and powerful, just the way she liked her wizards. She tried to keep her face impassive as she imagined him pulling her close for a kiss. 

Just do it already. Kiss me! her mind screamed.

Harry’s eyes fell to her lips as he began to lean in, and Pansy gave up and gave in, closing her eyes, waiting for it. 

But it never came. 

Her cheeks burned from embarrassment and she suppressed a petulant groan before finally peeking one eye open. He was studying her. 

“Parkinson, let’s make sure something is clear. I’d never want for you to get the impression I was trying to take advantage of my power here.”

Right, she thought.

“And I certainly wouldn’t want to do anything to make you feel uncomfortable… I just wanted to make sure we understand each other,” he said gently. It almost sounded sincere.

Pansy’s mouth felt dry as her eyes feasted on his. Being denied was worse than giving in. She wanted to taste his kiss, now more than ever. 

“Of course,” she stammered.

“Your presence here is… questionable, and your tone is very disrespectful. Did you know there are punishments for such behaviour?” 

Pansy opened her mouth and then paused. Where was he going with this? What more did he want to do with her? They were already going to invade her home, for Merlin’s sake. And just a few minutes ago she could have sworn he was going to kiss her.

Just what kind of mind-fuck was this?

She stood staring back at him, unsure of what to say next. Threats obviously didn’t work, and the longer they spoke, the more unsure she felt about her capacity to do anything of consequence.

Harry folded his arms over his chest. 

Pansy threw up her hands. “What do you want from me? You give me practically no notice about raiding my home, and now you to want to punish me for standing up for my rights? You’re bloody unbelievable, Potter! What are you going to do, arrest me?”

Harry smirked. “For making threats to a senior Auror, I could, but I was thinking of something a bit less severe.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Right, this comes down to money, doesn’t it? All of you Ministry types are the same. You want me to pay a bloody fine, don’t you?”

“Something like that…”

Pansy shook her head, slightly disappointed to learn that even Harry Potter could be bought. “How much?”

Harry’s eyes perused her curves once more. “I think a better question would be… how many.”

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “How many what?”

“How many swats to your bum do you think you deserve?”

She gaped at him in disbelief. The bloody bastard had lost his mind; either that or he was even more arrogant than she’d thought.

“You can’t do that! That’s illegal!”

Harry’s face sobered. “So is coming into the Head Auror’s office unannounced and making threats. We can stand here and argue about it, or fight it out at the Wizengamot, if you’d like, but I’ll guarantee you, Parkinson, this will all end with your home being searched by my Aurors.”

Pansy blinked. This wasn’t about money. This was about power. And Harry Potter had the upper hand, and for some reason, the thought of it didn’t entirely bother her. Of course, she hated to lose and she would never publicly admit to submitting to the over-hyped Boy Who Got Lucky, but she had to acknowledge that this situation was… arousing. She was turned on. Power had always had that affect on her, and in the hands of an intelligent wizard, it was incredibly attractive. She had never allowed anyone to lay a hand on her, but at the moment, the idea held some intrigue.

“Let me get this right,” she tried to say with her former confidence, despite feeling every bit like a nervous schoolgirl. “You want to… spank me?”

Harry nodded. “For starters. For some strange reason, I don’t think you’re completely opposed to the suggestion.”

Now it was Pansy’s turn to fold her arms over her chest. She wasn’t that easy, and she wanted to make sure he didn’t take this opportunity for granted. “Just what kind of tart do you think I am? I’m a professional woman, not some star struck bimbo who’ll drop her knickers just because you’re Harry Potter.”

“I’m not asking you, Parkinson,” Harry said in a firm tone. “You’ll take your punishment like a big girl or I’ll arrest you for making threats to a senior Auror. Now drop your knickers, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

Rendered momentarily speechless, Pansy’s mind raced for a rebuttal. “I can have your job for this. Sexual harassment, coercion, and a host of other violations,” she said weakly. 

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes seemed more brilliant than before, his scent was more captivating. She wanted to rip his robes off and bury her face into his bare chest, where she could inhale him completely. No one would ever have to know. There was definite chemistry here, and just enough privacy to explore the possibilities, and really, the image of bending over before Harry Potter while holding onto her ankles nearly made her swoon.

Would he want to fuck her afterwards? She found herself hoping so.

“It’d be my word against yours,” Harry said matter-of-factly, rolling up his sleeves. “But it’s up to you.” 

She narrowed her eyes, trying to hide her mounting excitement. Harry waited in still silence. 

“Oh, bloody hell,” she cursed under her breath as she turned around. Was he looking at her arse? Probably.

She smirked, quickly discarding her robes to the floor before turning around and lifting her knee-length skirt up slowly, exposing her nude-coloured stockings, garters, and matching bikini-cut lace nude knickers. She slowly pulled them down until they dropped to her feet. When she bent all the way over to hold her ankles, there was a low whistle behind her. 

“Nice… very nice, Parkinson,” Harry breathed, running a hand up her thigh and over her exposed cheeks.

She smiled in spite of herself, happy that she was having just as much of an effect on him as he had on her. 

A sudden sharp smack to her left cheek left her gasping in shock. “What the hell?”

“That wasn’t very nice,” Harry chided. “I gave you a compliment. I said you have a nice arse. Now what do you say?”

Pansy rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I know I have a nice arse.”

Another slap struck her right cheek and then there was another on her left, making her jump. “Damn it, Potter!” 

Before she could turn around, there was a firm slap to her thigh, and Harry’s left hand tightened on her hip. “Hold still and take your punishment, or I’ll have to start over.”

“And what if I just stand up and walk out?”

There was a deep hum behind her as he pulled her bum back against his body. She could feel some hardness there. She closed her eyes, fighting with herself and then succumbing to the pressure against her arse. She pushed back, grinding herself against him. 

Harry groaned, his hand digging into her hip insistently once more. “Stop that. This is punishment.”

Who knew Potter would be such a tease?

“Right,” she sighed, holding herself still, waiting for the next strike against her flesh.

“Such a smartarse, aren’t you?” he whispered, delivering another sharp smack that landed flatly across both cheeks.

It hurt a bit, but it also tingled, and surprisingly, it also made her feel sexy. Harry Potter was spanking her arse. Not because she had really done anything to merit such a thing, but because he wanted to. Despite what he said, he was taking a substantial risk to do this. He was breathing heavy above her, and she could feel his clothed steel hard cock straining against her arse. It was just as large as she had imagined it would be, and the thought of having it inside of her was becoming more appealing with each passing moment.

She tempted fate once more, pushing her arse back against him. 

“Stop it,” Harry growled. Gripping her hips with both hands this time. “Or you’ll never get what you really want.”

Pansy froze immediately. 

“Now, apologise,” he ordered, delivering another hard slap to her right cheek, which was on fire now. 

“Sorry,” Pansy grumbled to herself.

She gasped as series of alternating swats were delivered on each side. “I said, I’m sorry,” she forced out finally when the stinging became too much. “You’re still a prat,” she spat out stubbornly. 

“You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” He sounded almost amused.

“I suppose not,” she said proudly, wiggling her arse again to emphasise she had not been defeated. 

Harry chuckled behind her. “Or maybe you just like your punishment too much.”

Pansy scoffed. “If you think I’m enjoying this…”

Her eyes went wide and she froze as a long slender digit slid up over the entrance of her cunt. 

“Yeah, I think you are,” Harry said. 

She was wet, very wet, and Harry’s finger easily glided over her bits, making tiny circles that made her hips twist involuntarily. 

“Go on,” she commanded. “Do it.”

“You still don’t get it, do you, Parkinson? You’re not in control here.”

She closed her eyes, her lips pursing in frustration. “I get it…”

“You get what?” Harry asked, sliding his finger in to the first knuckle before withdrawing.

Pansy almost whined in protest but stopped herself. He waited for her to answer. 

“I get that you’re in control.”

“Good,” he said. 

Pansy felt herself beginning to quiver from holding her ankles and leaning over so far. She had to reposition her feet to get steady herself. When she moved to do so, Harry grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back against him. 

She gasped loudly; he had freed his cock in only a few short seconds and was running its length along her cunt. She moaned in spite of herself.

“Stop teasing, Potter, and fuck me,” she ordered.

She cried out as she was pushed forward, nearly landing on her face. Her quick reflexes broke the fall, and she landed on her hands and knees instead. “Why you…”

Harry was on her in the next second, one hand against the back of her neck, pushing her face to the cold marble floor. “When are you going to learn how to behave?”

“What would be the fun in that?” she asked smartly.

The pressure on her neck increased, as Harry’s other hand delivered a harsh onslaught of smacks to her already sore left arse cheek.

“Ow,” she whined as he continued. He didn’t seem affected by her cries or curses at all. 

She thought of fighting him, giving him a swift back kick, but that would end whatever game they were playing. She wanted to see what was next. Just what did Harry Potter plan to do with her? Did he want her the way she wanted him right now? She found herself making strange little noises from behind her closed mouth as he continued to punish her. The stinging turned to burning and then there was just heat. Her skin, her cunt, her desire. It was all the same now. 

When Harry finally stopped, she felt thoroughly defeated and pliable to whatever he wanted. The hand at the back of her neck softened, and she flinched as his hand pressed against her arse again. This time, it was a soothing caress. She closed her eyes as he rubbed out the flame burning in her skin.

Harry shifted behind her and then leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “Now, I’m going to fuck you.”

His words sent vibrations through her body and she spread her knees farther apart and raised her hips in response. Harry quickly accepted, grabbing her hips and pulling her back against the head of his cock. He pushed forward, sliding into her easily. Pansy moaned. They fit together like a glove, and thought of where had he been all of her adult life sprang to mind.

He pushed farther still, his grip still firm on her hips, and she tried to move so she could feel more of him. “Oh, yes, Potter… Harry…”

“That’s it, Parkinson, say my name…”

“Harry,” she moaned again, not caring anymore how bloody pathetic she probably appeared. Being spanked and then shagged into the floor by Harry Potter, Head of Aurors, wasn’t so bad, after all. 

“Mmm, yes… again,” he ordered, pulling on her hair as he completely sheathed himself inside of her once more.

Pansy’s eyes flew open. He was being so aggressive. She would have never dreamed sweet little orphaned Harry could be this demanding. 

She bucked back against him, twisting and grinding, urging him on as she complied with his demand, again and again. “Oh, Harry. Harry… Harry… yes… that’s it. Harry!”

He growled again, which only increased her desire. She wanted to feel more of him, and tried to rise to turn over, but the hand on the back of neck tightened and grew heavy. 

“Oh, no, you don’t. I’m in charge here! Who am I?”

His declaration of control and the pressure of his hand worked like an enchantment. Pansy felt conquered, and it was strangely pleasing, like a calming draught. She stopped resisting and answered. “You’re the Head…”

“That’s right, and you’re in big trouble, aren’t you,” he said, punctuating every word with a hard thrust.

She nodded against the floor, pushing back to meet every one of them. She could take it like this all day, even after her orgasm came. And it was coming. Quickly.

“I want you to tell me when you come,” Harry insisted as he continued to pound into her.

Pansy closed her eyes, focusing on rising pressure building within. Harry’s cock was thick and long and he had an uncanny ability to hit the right spot with every stroke. Who would have ever known?

“Oh, Gods, Potter…”

“What’s that?”

“I mean Harry… Harry… oh, Harry, I’m coming!” Pansy cried, pressing her hands into the floor, trying to hold on as everything inside of her shook.

Harry continued to rut against her, even as she collapsed underneath him. He held her hips steady though, his movements quickening and becoming more erratic until he gave her one last deep thrust. 

“Aaahh!” he groaned, holding still as he emptied himself inside of her.

Pansy kept her eyes closed, still coming down from the high of her climax. The feeling of Harry coming inside of her was odd, but satisfying, and she had to smile as he fell forward against her to rest. 

They lay there, on the floor of Harry’s office, for several minutes before Pansy looked back. Harry was resting atop her; his messy black hair was all she could see from her vantage point. Her knees were beginning to hurt from the pressure of supporting him and herself, and the floor seemed much colder now in the passing minutes.

“Get off of me,” she snapped, jerking from underneath him. 

Harry sighed, slowly rising off of her to stand. 

Pansy groaned in pain as she turned over. Her arse was sore, her knees were sore, her face was sore. Sitting on Harry's cold marble floor with her robes around her waist really did make her feel like a dirty tart. 

She scowled. “You know I could charge you for battery. I have the marks to prove it,” she said with a challenging stare, looking up at him.

Harry didn’t reply. He simply shook his head and held out his hand to help her up. She looked at his hand distrustfully before taking it and struggling to stand. 

He did a cleansing spell on them both, and then they adjusted their clothing in awkward silence. 

“I suppose we’re done here,” Pansy said finally, suddenly wanting to leave. Her shame and incredulity about what had just transpired was growing with each passing minute.

“Are we?” Harry asked, looking at her curiously.

“Well, I would think so. I mean, it’s not as if I would ever be seen dealing with the likes of you. And I’m certain you wouldn’t want to taint your reputation by consorting with a potential ‘terrorist’.”

Harry genuinely laughed, and Pansy smiled, unable to keep up her haughty demeanour. They had just shagged, and it had been damned good. Perhaps Harry Potter wasn’t so bad.

“I’m still going to have to order that raid.”

She opened her mouth in protest, and Harry put up his hand.

“It’ll be quick, Parkinson. We’ll be in and out. I promise.”

Pansy sighed. “Look, Potter. I understand the purpose of the search. I mean, my father was a Dark wizard and a Death Eater. And you’re right, the last attack did stink of their sort of trickery, but you have to see this from my point of view. I’m not my father. I’m a hard working businesswoman who’s made every effort to disassociate myself from his mistakes. I just don’t want a bunch of Neanderthals in my home, going through my things,” she said softly, averting eyes from his to focus on his chest. She really did hate feeling so helpless.

“I have to do my job, Pansy,” Harry said gently.

Pansy huffed. “Fine, why don’t you do it, then?” 

Harry stroked his chin, contemplating her. “Would that make you more comfortable? For me to do the search, alone?”

Pansy nodded. “Yes.”

“All right, Parkinson. I’ll do the search, myself, alone.”

She wanted to hug him, thank him, and snog him at once, but instead she extended her hand. “Thank you.”

Harry promptly took her hand and gave it a firm shake, but didn’t let go. “But if I agree to do the search myself, you have to do something for me…”

Pansy stilled, staring back at Harry. What more could he possibly want?

“You have to tell your friends that the Auror Department doesn’t have an agenda. We need their assistance. We just want to make sure there are no more attacks. This is the only way to protect everyone.”

Pansy laughed sardonically. “You want me to lie, then?”

“I want you to help me get more cooperation. This doesn’t have to be an us-against-them situation.” 

Pansy studied her shoes. If Harry was willing to accommodate her, even after her threats and posturing, then perhaps they weren’t on a crusade to persecute Slytherins.

“All right.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, finally dropping her hand.

“Are you coming tonight?”

“Yes, I have to be fair. I’ll need to conduct the search at the time stated on the notice.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “It won’t kill you to come an hour later. I have errands to run. I’ll be home by seven, you can come then,” she instructed, turning around for the door.

“Parkinson,” Harry called after her.

She stopped and turned around slowly, her eyebrow quirked. “Yes?”

“Did you forget? You don’t get to dish out orders…”

Pansy smirked. “Perhaps not here. But when you come to my estate, Potter, you’ll abide by my rules…. Got it?”

“We’ll just see about that.”

The challenge alone was enough to get her excited again. She turned around before her face could give her away. 

“I suppose we will,” she murmured as she walked out the door.


End file.
